A seasonal poem inspired by recent weather.
(Image description: A single, silhouetted tree stands in the foreground and is surrounded by mist. A line of trees and the rising sun are in the background, casting the sky in shades of pink and purple.) Credit: Photo by Dimitri Kolpakov on Unsplash
Poetry doesn’t always require deep imagery or meaning. It can convey a span of time, such as the course of a day. Imbolc is technically over, but I like to imagine Brighid is still traveling around and causing spring to stir. I can see Her taking time to smell the roses, even while working hard.
A Slow Spring Stroll
Spring is temperance,
a balance ‘tween
Your fire and water.
Some days,
You mantle’s hem
is trimmed in frosty lace.
Today’s look
is swathing mist,
gentle and sleepy.
A perfect day
to curl up with a book
and watch rain fall.
Or to cleanse
winter’s clutter
from the hearth.
Feisty winds
and shy sunbeams
further spring’s warmth.
Cold may have its turn again,
to usher people inside once more,
but such is the flow of the season.
You take Your time,
strolling along the path,
with spring an unhurried endeavor.
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